Tostitos and a Couch
by BatteryDiamond
Summary: Frank and Gerard and Mikey being silly. One-shot, although I might continue. Hope you like it! :3  916 words


He was sprawled across my couch, coke in his hand, shirt bunched up to show his hip bones and sparrow tattoos. Mikey was seated next to him, a placid look on his face. I threw my keys to the dresser and started towards the living room. Plopping myself onto the couch next to this black-haired midget boy, I reached for his Tostitos. When he yanked them away, I looked at him in bewilderment.

"My Tostitos, bitch. Get your own." He scoffed. I heard Mikey chuckle in surprise.

"Fuck you! Who the hell even are you? My basement, my chips, fuckwad."

"He brought those, actually. No joke." Mikey chimed in. I glanced at this boy, verifying the truth. He simply nodded pridefully and scrunched his face at me.

"Seriously. Who are you?" I asked.

"I'm Frank, official bringer of the Tostitos. Since Mikeyway here doesn't have any, we made a compromise. I bring him some Tostitos lovin', he gives me his couch when my parents are pissed at me." I looked up at Mikey quizzically.

"And you cleared this all with mom?"

"Uh, well. Kinda. Yeah. No. Not yet." He bowed his head shamefully and went silent.

"So you little shits just waltz downstairs into my basement and eat Tostitos on my couch and—"

"Our couch, asshole." Mikey corrected. I rolled my eyes and resumed my speech.

"Watch my fuckin' zombie flicks? I don't think so, skippy. Out. Go jack each other off or something."

"Frank needs a place to crash tonight, it's day one of the Tostitos-couch peace treaty. Would you mind giving up your precious unused couch for just one night? C'mon, Gee. It's a Friday! We'll go over to Pete's tomorrow so you can do your weird introvert art shit." Mikey pleaded. I sighed and nodded, hoisting myself into an upright position. I pushed my door open and went inside, throwing my messenger back to the floor by my bed. It had been a long day, and I was tired. Insanely tired. But I'd had this idea in my head since Chemistry and I really wanted to put it onto a canvas. I had drawn it with a ballpoint pen in the back of my notebook, hoping that would help. Turns out that it didn't, and it was still being added onto in my head. I thought about other things, but they lead back to that idea. It was centered around death, which had been inspiring me greatly for quite a while. It was of a woman, pale and thin, holding a child- cradling it, almost- and kissing it's head. I thought that it was a metaphor for the times where life comes from death, a rising from the ashes of a phoenix. I shook my head, hoping that I could forget it for a while. It scared me, that idea. It was still a baby, asking for more detail and precision. It rolled in my head, it was a beast. It seemed to eat at my very thought process, sneaking into every simple line that floated through my conscience. I heard a soft knock at the door not twenty minutes later, and Frank the midget man poked his head in.

"Mikey fell asleep on the couch, can I chill in here for a while?" I cocked one eyebrow at him, but motioned for him to come in anyways.

"Did he really? He must've been up late last night." He looked down, hiding his eyes from me.

"Um, yeah. Probably."

"Do you know anything about that?"

"N-n. Yeah. He was with me. But only because my parents were bitching at me! I swear, it was just that one time." He looked as if he might cry, his mouth slightly turned down at the corners, sloping towards his chin.

"It's okay. Um. Yeah. It's cool that you've got him, he's always been there for me."

"Ugh, Mikeyway is so great. He always talks to me. And he's helped me a lot with my parents and shit, they're assholes. Great kid." He informed me.

"I am aware of this, as he is my sibling." I retorted, picking up a copy of Sandman and flipping through it lazily.

"So, um. You do art? Well. Like. Mikeyway tells me you're this awesome-o comic artist dude who makes macabre shit all the time. Truth? False?" he asked. I grunted in surprise. Mikey isn't usually outwardly proud of me towards the people he associates with. So how does this Frankie kid know? Maybe Mikey likes him more than I knew. Hm.

"Well, not really. Uh. Just. Y'know. Weird stuff." I said dismissively.

"I like weird shit." he chirps. And I think he has the cutest voice ever. It's really weird that a brother's friend's voice is cute. But seriously, his whole fuckin' mug is just adorable. I'm about to say something pissy and moody, but Frank just cuddles up to me on my bed and lays there. For no reason at all. I can hear Mikey breathing in the other room, that's how soft Frankie's breathing is. So I lay down with him, essentially because I'm tired. But then I think about his hands. And his fingers. And his mouth. Oh my non-existent god, his mouth. Just. Please. Get in me. I honestly don't mind this Frankie kid. I actually quite like him. I want him to stay.


End file.
